


Worst of Husbands and Worst of Men

by justthatbookdragon



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 02:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12521356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justthatbookdragon/pseuds/justthatbookdragon
Summary: "Best of Wives and Best of Women" from Eliza's Point of View





	Worst of Husbands and Worst of Men

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short blurb that I couldn't get out of my head. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Eliza wakes as she had many mornings before, to the frantic scratching of a quill and sharp, yellow candlelight that was stark against the darkness of the sky outside.

“ **Alexander, come back to sleep** ,” she murmurs drowsily against her pillow, one arm stretching half-hearted heartedly across the bed towards her husband, the other raised to shade her eyes from the light.

“ **I have an early meeting out of town** ,” he responds.  If she were more awake, she would have heard the tenseness in his voice, would have seen the way he studiously avoided looking at her.

But she wasn’t.  It was mid-July, as the sticky heart of New York’s summers left her unwilling to move from her cocoon of blankets.  Still, she says, “ **It’s still dark outside**.”

“ **I know.  I just need to write something down** ,” is his reply.  Eliza sighs.  Of course, why had she ever thought otherwise?  Her sigh was part affection, part exasperation.

“ **Why do you write like you’re running out of time?”** she asks with a fond smile.  Alexander rises and bend over her, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek.

“ **Shhhhhh** ,” he whispers, and, if Eliza had been more awake, she would have noted the strange mixture of guilt and regret in his voice.  Instead, she simply wraps her arms loosely around his waist.

“ **Come back to bed.  That would be enough** ,” she says.  Alexander sighs and gently removes her arms, pressing another kiss to her hands before he lets go.

“ **I’ll be back before you know I’m gone** ,” he promises, but his tone tells Eliza that he most definitely will _not_ be back before she knows he’s gone.  Part of her wants to let him leave, and to return to the comfort of sleep, but she tries one last time.  
“ **Come back to sleep** ,” she pleads, but the night air is still too warm, and two-year-old Phillip had kept her up last night.  She was so, _so_ tired.  Tired enough that she barely caught her husband’s next words.

“ **This meeting’s at dawn**.”

If she had been more awake, she would have _known._ She would have done everything she could to stop him from going, because of course her wonderful, foolish husband would settle this with a duel, but she _couldn’t_ lose anyone else in her life.  If she had been more awake, she could have prevented this.

But she wasn’t, so she simply replied in a sleepy murmur, “ **Well, I’m going back to sleep**.”

“Hey,” Alexander leans over and gives her one last kiss, “ **Best of wives and best of women**.”

_Worst of husbands and worst of men,_ she replies in her mind wryly as she shifts over to her other side and slips into sleep.

  
~

She is woken hours later with a shout of warning and she only needs to register the words “Hamilton” and “duel” before she springs out of bed, paying no attention to the things she throws on.  Her steps are hurried, nearly tripping over the hem of her messily arranged skirts, as she paces past buildings, heading towards the doctor’s office.  As she flies past, newsboys are already beginning to sell the day’s paper, with the date, July 11, 1804, printed boldly in black ink across each.

The next time she sees that date, it will be engraved on a marble tombstone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that Philip Schuyler (Eliza's father) died on November 18th, 1804, the same year as Alexander Hamilton? I can't even imagine what Eliza must have been going through during that year.


End file.
